Today I have decided not to post a loquacious, opinionated, contentious piece OR a pithy, titillating, sexual story. Why? Because it’s almost Labor Day weekend and so I am going to take a wee break from writing.

But… before I do, I want to tell y’all about a couple of other things I’ve been up to~

First, I recently interviewed Christopher Ryan, the author of Sex at Dawn; The Prehistoric Origins of Modern Sexuality, whose work I have referenced a couple of times in the last few weeks. He has just published this revolutionary book that debunks the concept of monogamy as a natural construct for our species. I really enjoyed doing the interview with Ryan, and apparently he did too. He even said that it was his favorite interview so far.

Now that’s a way to make a girl like me blush.

Read the interview here.

And next week is the premier for the very first BedPost Confessions, a reading series that I am doing with some fellow local bloggers. We are really excited to get this off the ground. It will be a monthly series that is FREE, and will feature improv performances by the Dumb Bondage Clowns, and erotic readings by Mia Martina, Heresy Girl, Rosie Q and, of course, Yours Truly. So, local folks, come on out and hear us talk… SEX.

Check out the Bedpost Confessions website here.

I’ll be back up on Monday night. For my readers in the US, have a safe and happy holiday. For everyone else ~ besos!

xo~Sadie

There came a time when the risk to remain tight in the bud

was more painful than the risk it took to blossom.

~Anais Nin

HAPPY HNT!!!

Cheating has been on my mind lately for a number of reasons. The revolutionary new book, Sex at Dawn has just been released, and it contains very strong historical and biological evidence that suggests that human beings are not designed for monogamy. I have made it my mission this week to read all that Christopher Ryan, one of the book’s authors, has published on the Internet; and in his writings, he offers very persuasive explanations to the reason people cheat. I have an idea as to why some people cheat because, a couple of years ago I was involved with two men, both of whom were cheating on their wives.

When in mixed company, if I offer up this particular piece of information, I am of course, more often than not, met with squinted eyes; the kind of eyes that convey judgment of the most condemning kind. The eyes that, in those instances, preternaturally brand my bosom with the vermillion A that my behavior (in their squinted eyes,) positively warrants for my participation in betrayal of such towering proportions.

But, my eyes see it differently.

People cheat for many reasons. Because sex is one of the main components of infidelity, we can assume that people cheating is about fucking other people – be it to get off, to get intimacy, or to get some sort of control over their lives. People cheat sometimes because they have a natural, biological urge to have sex with someone other than their spouse; or, as in the case of the many married or attached people out there whose significant others aren’t giving it up at all – those people cheat because they have a natural urge to have sex with someone, anyone at all. This happens more often than you think. The married man I was involved with, Charles, was fucking me for this exact reason. Trent, a married man that I still text with and phone fuck on occasion hasn’t fucked his wife in 17 months because she is punishing him for giving into that biological urge in the first place. In addition to reading Christopher Ryan, I have also been reading the incredibly straightforward, no holds barred sex advice columns of Dan Savage. The man is a genius with an ability to tell it fucking straight, and I have found that I agree with his viewpoint on practically every front. His take on monogamous relationships is – if you are in a relationship with someone where the sex was great in the beginning, if the person involved led you to believe that sex would be an ongoing piece of your relationship’s equation, and then suddenly the sex stops, then you have a biological and natural right to go get your needs met somewhere else.

I totally, 100% agree.

Is it best to do that with the consent of your partner? Absolutely. Is that realistic? No, not so fucking much.

Because we live in a society that holds marriage and long-term commitment in such hypocritical reverence that it disallows two people who deeply, poignantly love each other the opportunity to broadcast that love based on their genders. In this society it is also assumed that monogamy must be upheld inside the relationship construct despite the extremely high infidelity rate which more often than not, results in broken families; the very families whose institution this society strives to protect by refusing to recognize same sex marriage.

And so it is because of this backward-ass thinking that men and women, when they come to the inevitable crossroads in their relationships, will either be afraid of or will not think to discuss with their partner the idea of actually talking about what other options they might have. And I say inevitable because it is certain that they will come to a point where they will ask themselves – Is this it? Stay with a person long enough, and there will come a time that it is necessary to reevaluate the relationship. It’s just the law of the nature of relationships. It seems that most people, and certainly the ones who cheat, do that reevaluating on their own, instead of with their partner. They have recognized the crossroads, which may have turned into a chasm by then -a seemingly hopeless hollow- and this may incite them to stray. This chasm is (without extremely mindful and diligent communication) almost bound to happen; values clash, hurtful words are hurled, spirits become bruised, intimacy ceases, resentments are built, and the damage is done. And once this chasm has occurred, it can feel immense, irreparable, irreconcilable … impossible to overcome.

And once it feels impossible to overcome, it feels impossible to talk about with the person who’s in that chasm with you.

Seems strange, doesn’t it? Because if you were stuck in an actual chasm, instead of a metaphorical one, such as a deep mine 2,300 feet underground, with someone that you loved, the chances are that this traumatic experience would bond you inextricably. Weathering such an ordeal together would solidify a camaraderie that would forever link you. But then, if you were trapped 2,300 feet underground together for any length of time, you’d talk to each other. And you’d talk about the things that are important. Like your relationship.

But, because our society is so fucking hell bent on imposing the value system of Keep your pants zipped, your chastity belts fastened, your eyes to the ground, and your hands to yourself, (in the midst of a booming, gazillion dollar porn industry – figure that one out) it doesn’t feel comfortable for most people to say to their significant others, Hey, I love you, but this isn’t working for me. What can we do so that we can both be happy?

So they fuck around because their bodies crave the intimacy and they cross their fingers and hope against hope that they won’t get found out. And when they do get discovered (because they almost always do) they and the people they cheated with become destined to be forever greeted with the squinty eyes of judgment and condemnation and slandered with scarlet letter A’s.

But luckily, voices like that of Dan Savage and books like Christopher Ryan’s Sex at Dawn threaten to undo this rampant, outdated, and ultimately injurious mindset by raising awareness that sex is a fundamental piece of our humanness, and that monogamy is a behavioral choice, not an absolute, cultural imperative.

And I will remember these words (just a small piece of a lengthy missive,) which arrived in my inbox just yesterday from Charles, who is on the threshold of an amicable divorce, and whom I had not heard from in some time –

It was you, Sadie, who first jumpstarted what had not been, and let me go to places that made me realize I had to go there and stay in those places … Part of what you showed me is that I really did need much more in my life. There are different paths to freedom. I have spent most of my marriage trying to fill in the gaps. Freedom for me was actually realizing then I had to stop all of the things that may have looked like freedom but were actually making it harder to find myself… I owe great deal to you, Sadie. I really do.

Interestingly, Charles found his path to freedom by becoming involved with me; by cheating on his wife with me. He realized that true intimacy was something that he not only needed, but profoundly deserved. And now he has that with someone who loves him (and who fucks him) as he is wholly entitled to be.

So, you see, I am not the wearer of bar sinister here.

And this is why I see things differently… and not through squinted eyes.

I received this question from a woman who opened up her marriage about a year ago ~

Sadie, I took my first lover last year, and it was wonderful, but didn’t last long. And then I met someone I’ve been with for 8 months now, and it’s amazing, but we contracted something called Molluscum that has put a damper on our relationship.

How do you avoid getting an STD?

~Pamela

Molluscum is a pox virus that is transmitted via skin to skin contact. This means that it can be technically classified as a sexually transmitted infection (STI,) but one doesn’t necessarily need to engage in sexual behavior in order to pick it up. In fact, Molluscum was once seen almost entirely in children because their immature immune systems allow for easier infection. But Molluscum outbreaks have recently begun to infect adults; and those adults infected are unwittingly spreading them to their sexual partners via skin-to-skin contact. The pox that the virus creates on the skin typically take between six and twelve months to fully disappear, which makes the transmission of them that much more likely. The longer they stick around on the skin, the more opportunity they have to spread to another host. But the CDC says that Molluscum infection is mild and “should not be a reason for concern or worry”.

I think the best way to avoid contracting Molluscum is to ask your partners if they have any recent skin eruptions whose origins they can’t identify. And if the answer is yes, don’t panic. Just go see a doctor, and proceed accordingly. The main problem with Molluscum is that it can take a while to get rid of it.

In terms of how I avoid other STD’s or STI’s – I use condoms.

No, they aren’t fool proof.

Yes, there is a risk.

But the risks are greatly minimized by the fact that … I use condoms.

And, in addition to using condoms, I also get a full-panel STD screen at least once a year as a precautionary measure, to make sure that the condoms that I use are doing their job. I also ask many of my future partners about their sexual history and if they have (or have had) any diseases or infections. This opens up an important dialogue, and allows me to gauge whether or not I am taking any additional risks. Whether or not they are being truthful (or if they might be simply unaware) is, of course, a part of that risk.

But mostly, I avoid an STD by using condoms.

And so should you.

Please check out this post about using condoms by the lovely Julie Sunday of

How To Have Sex in Texas.

I want women to be liberated and still be able to have a nice ass and shake it.
~Shirley MacLaine

HAPPY HNT!!!

The two of us stood eyeing the summer sandals on display; the rows of open-toed, strappy shoes a gentle reminder that the Texas temperature was climbing and we would soon be struck by the summer heat and thus reluctant to wear anything besides the cute, comfortable, slinky sandals splayed out in front of us. I reached for a pair of silver slingbacks. As I did, my daughter spoke ~

So, I think I’m ready to hear all about what sex is now.

Now? I asked, peering suspiciously around the store before I looked down at her and into her beautiful blue eyes… the ones that were meeting mine nervously.

I put the shoes back up on the rack. Baby, I said, you know that I am more than happy to talk to you about sex, but I think now is really not the best time. How about when we get in the car after we’re done here, okay?

Okay.

And with that, we were back to shoe shopping.

Later, when we were tucked within the quiet insulation of my little car, I embarked upon the informal soliloquy I had composed in my head just moments prior. I didn’t get very far, however, because she interrupted me in the middle of the second sentence ~

Umm… I think I’ve changed my mind mom. I’m not ready to know yet. I thought I was but I’m not.

Okay honey, I replied. You know you can let me know when you are ready, don’t you?

Yeah. I guess I need to wait until I’m ten. That seems about the right age, doesn’t it?

I think ten sounds just about right, sweetie.

She turned ten a month ago. And just as the heat has appeared… and lingers relentlessly still, so has my daughter’s inquisitiveness about a complicated, complex concept. I’ve had many opportunities since that springtime afternoon in the shoe aisle to revisit our conversation. But every time I ask, are you ready to talk about sex yet? I am met with a steadfast, but cautiously curious, No. Not just yet mom.

Knowing my daughter and the relationship we have, I can’t help but think that she will decide she is ready very soon.

But I will leave it up to her to decide exactly when that will be.

Hubby and I had been married for just over two years and we were living in a converted loft in the old Dutch Boy Paint Factory in Oakland, California. I had just arrived home from a grueling day of classes at acupuncture school when, one sunny afternoon, I blithely peed on a stick.

Three minutes later my life was forever changed.

From precisely the moment I peered into the window of that pregnancy test and fearfully recognized that I was going to have a baby, I was absolutely, unequivocally, and patently resolute to be the very best mother that I could be. I was the woman who didn’t take even a Tylenol for the next eight months. I was the one who attempted (albeit unsuccessfully) to give birth to her daughter at home so that she could begin her life in the most comfortable space possible. The one who carried her newborn baby in a sling everywhere they went. The one who refused to let her kid anywhere near a grain of sugar before her second birthday. The one who had her child sleep next to her in the bed for her first three years. The one who didn’t vaccinate her kid (a decision made after months and months of research and deliberation) because of the neurological risks involved. The one who decided to totally drop out of acupuncture school in order to be her child’s round-the-clock caregiver. The one who, despite a debilitating two year stint with an auto-immune disorder, still managed to do that caregiving thing amazingly well. The one who planned and executed a 4 month backpack trek through Europe with her Hubby and then four year-old daughter so that she could experience a myriad of cultures. The one who decided from the moment she gave birth that she would instill within her child the notion that she was absolutely, unequivocally, and patently cherished.

I tell you these things not in an attempt to ask for respect or to invite scolding for my choices, but simply to illustrate the type of parent that I am. Not a day goes by that I don’t say “I love you” to my daughter. This is a phrase that was never spoken in my home. I won’t go into my parent’s crappy parenting styles because it’s a tediously tiresome story (and it certainly could have been a lot fucking worse,) but suffice to say that I wanted to be a different kind of parent than my parents were. One who loved her child unconditionally, so much so that her child would know it so explicitly that she could actually feel it.

Because Hubby and I talked about having an open marriage before we got married, we understood that someday we would do so when the time felt right (sparse particulars can be read here.) Our daughter was five when we made the decision to open, and while she was certainly a consideration, we didn’t give the impact it might have on her as much forethought as we did the impact it would have upon our relationship with each other; despite the fact that I had previously considered her in terms of everything that I did. But we didn’t simply because, in our mind, when it came right down to it, being open was about fucking, and fucking was the very last thing she needed to know we were doing with each other, much less with anyone else. So when we took her into consideration with regards to being open, it was by way of investigating theoretical questions such as How much do we tell her about who we are out with? Do we introduce her to our “friends?” and Do we have people over when she is awake? or What about when she is asleep?

And we have answered them as they have come up organically, through the course of the five years we’ve been open -

We always tell her we are going out with whomever we are going out with, we do not ever lie to her about this. Lies feed upon each other, once one is told, more are destined to follow. And the fact that Hubby and I are open and honest with each other translates into our being open and honest with our daughter as well. But we certainly edit exactly how much information we share with her because her understanding of relationships is fairly limited. If I tell her a few hours before I leave, I am going out tonight, Baby, she usually doesn’t ask, Who are you going out with? But I am always prepared to answer that question (and any following it) honestly. But she likely wouldn’t bat an eyelash if I told her I was going out with Dominic. She understands that just as she has friends that are boys, I have male friends, and Hubby has female friends, too.

Usually though, when I tell her I am going out she just says, Okay. Have fun, Mom.

She has met a select few of our “friends”. Our daughter doesn’t have any concept that they may be anything unlike the friends that she has. She is only ten years old, and still doesn’t have a handle on what romantic relationships actually are. She knows her parents are married because they love each other, and she sees us display plenty of affection towards each other (and her,) but she also knows that being married is difficult … because we tell her it is, and because she sees that it is. Hubby and I have been doing a lot of internal work lately, both individually and as a couple, and this sort of self-discovery tends to bring up all sorts of annoying, latent shit to contend with. But when the proverbial shit hits that metaphoric fan, we attempt to get it cleaned up as expeditiously as possibly; and we always, always make sure our daughter witnesses our ablution. When we fight, we make up; and when we do we show her that we have. I figure this teaches her two things – marriage takes work to make it function well, which means love can occasionally equal dirty work of all sorts … like shit excavation from fan blades; or more literally, talking through tough issues that arise even though, goddammit, we’d rather be watching Top Chef.

The whole Love is a Verb concept is one we dutifully strive to uphold.

If one of us is out, Hubby or I might have someone that we have known for a while (and thus know very well) over after our daughter has gone to bed and she is sound asleep. We made this decision a couple of years ago based on the fact that the girl sleeps as deep as the dead. She has never once awoken when we were “entertaining,” and if she did, she’d have to get through a locked door to discover us with someone else. And they never spend the night if she is home. We understand that, for as little as she knows about our lifestyle it would be very confusing for her to see Dominic or Sirena exit her parents’ bedroom in the early morning, bleary eyed and likely uncomfortable with meeting her in the hallway.

But that’s not to say that none of this can change. We will always operate under the assumption that love is something we do, and participate in it by showing each other its meaning. And we will always love our daughter unconditionally and without limits, taking tender care to ensure that she knows this. But one day we will tell her that we have outside relationships. I like to think that it will happen much like we discuss sex and sexuality, diversity in genders, and tolerance for alternative lifestyles of all kinds — as they arise in conversation and circumstance — and we will slowly reveal to her that, as we love each other and her, we sometimes love other people, too. For now, she’s incapable of truly grasping the notion that her mother is having sex with her father as well as this dude Dominic that she’s seen a few times simply because she’s just too young to grasp the notion that her mother is having sex with her father. So until she can get that down, we have no intentions of revealing to her the exact specifics of our lifestyle. But when we do have the discussion, we will probably ease her into it with the love concept first – maybe tell her something like, Mom has a special friend that she really cares about and so she likes to spend time with him a few times a week.

Because ultimately, to us, there is nothing wrong with that simple concept. But traditional marriage and traditional values don’t support this theory, therefore we have to make up our own values surrounding our lifestlye as we go along. And in so doing, we have to figure out what she can handle and tolerate and what she can’t based upon her level of maturity.

Which means that as she gets older and learns more about our situation, we might have to change facets of it in order to allow for her level of acceptance. And that’s okay. Of course it is. She is our daughter, and so she takes top priority.

As I wrap this up, I just want to mention quickly and as an important aside – Hubby and I are both very big flirts, but when our daughter is present we keep flirting with anyone else to an appropriate minimum. But neither of us would ever try to “pick up” someone else while she was in our company. That too would certainly be confusing to her, and so avoiding this has become an unwritten rule of ours.

So, that is but a little glimpse into how we manage our open relationship with regards to our daughter. I am sure that there are unanswered questions here, so please feel free to supplement with your own experiences if you’ve got ‘em, or to ask me any further questions. I am, of course, happy to answer anything at all.

You know me … I’m an open book.

Have you ever been driving home after a morning at work and while you were stopped at a red light you realized that you had a voicemail from a blocked number, so you, naturally, listened to it, anticipating nothing beyond a simple, mirthful message from perhaps a credit card company or the laser treatment center that’s been recently phone spamming you, but instead you happily discovered that it was an old fuck-friend, panting tempestuously on the other end of the line, cock in hand, saying such salacious things as Mmmmm… I need you to hear me fucking cum right now, and, I am so fucking hard imagining you on top of me, and other, more lascivious sentiments, and so when you got home (which, really couldn’t have been expeditiously enough) you went upstairs, hiked up your skirt, pulled aside your panties, and positioned yourself on the bed with a dildo in your pussy and a vibrator on your clit, and then promptly texted your old friend with the message, It’s my turn now, call me and talk dirty to me, baby, and seconds later, of course, the phone rang and it was him telling you how fucking sexy you are, and how he wished he was there so that you could slide your perfect cunt up and down on his cock, You dirty little slut, and, in listening to his libidinous declarations, you got close, so very close to cumming, and so you told him this… in fact, you said, I am gonna cum for you, baby, right fucking now, and just as you did, your pussy exploded into contractions so concentrated and so commanding that you didn’t even realize until you recovered from your cunt combustion several moments later that, just as you had announced your orgasmic arrival…. you dropped the call?

Me too.

Deep summer is when laziness finds respectability.

~Sam Keen

HAPPY HNT!!!